


By Name

by Barkour



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Past, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7391302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Shirogane family takes in a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Name

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of speculation here, and roughly made at that. This isn't really a complete piece so much as free-form thinkin'.
> 
> I know that Shiro is meant to be about the same age as the rest of the guys (with Pidge a few years younger), but personally I peg him a bit older. So! There you are.

Emily Takeuchi was a linguistics professor and her husband, Shirogane Takeo, an officer at the San Francisco garrison. Takashi, who was eleven, considered them among the greatest parents of the world, an opinion shared by his two younger siblings, Aimi (who was eight) and Masaru (who was seven). They were a happy family and quite full, and so it was a surprise when their parents sat them down one night to discuss something important: a foster child.

"A what?" Masaru had not been listening. He was playing with his trucks on the floor and now looked up.

"Dummy," muttered Aimi. 

"Aiko," said Dad.

"Well, he is!"

"I'm not a dummy!"

"Your brother's not a dummy," said Mom.

"Sorry," said Aimi.

Masaru returned to his trucks.

Takashi, who was thinking, said, "Is it all ... done?"

"No," said Mom, smiling at him across the games table. "We wanted to see what you guys thought before we took him in."

Aimi deflated. "Aw. Just another boy."

Masaru chanted, "Boys rule, girls drool. Hey!"

As Aimi stuck her tongue out at him, Takashi yanked the truck from her outstretched hand. 

"Is he okay?" asked Takashi. "Is something wrong with his mom?"

Mom and Dad exchanged a glance. Masaru snatched the truck from Takashi and tucked it in his shirt to protect it from Aimi. She'd lost interest.

Gently Mom said, "He doesn't have a family."

"He's an orphan?" asked Aimi.

Masaru looked struck, cradling the lump of his distended shirt. "Did they die?" 

"We don't know," said Dad. "He..."

"He doesn't speak," said Mom. "Not." She paused, brow wrinkling as it did when she ordered her words. Takashi gestured to Aimi to sit with him on the loveseat, and she scrambled up beside him.

"He speaks," Mom said, pinching her fingers together before her, "but not in any real language. We think that someone may have kept him somewhere."

Takashi swallowed. "Did they hurt him?"

Another glance between Mom and Dad. Aimi tucked her arms around Takashi's arm. On the floor, Masaru made soft truck sounds: beeps and then a crash.

"He's very shy," said Mom at last. "And he doesn't like to talk to anyone, even in his made-up language. But he's only four or five. So we think that he can heal if he's safe and he's taught."

Takashi frowned. "Is he part of your job?"

"No," said Dad for Mom. "But your mother's job may help him learn faster."

"But we want you to help us decide if we take him in," said Mom. "Would you like to see him?"

Takashi leaned forward, and Aimi nodded furiously. Masaru rose up on his knees, trucks still in hand. The truck in his shirt plopped heavily on his knees. He yelped.

Dad laid a photograph on the table for them to look at, as Mom comforted Masaru. Takashi studied the picture. A very small boy with large, dark eyes and black hair stared out of it at them. He looked frightened. 

Aimi said, "He's so little! And he looks like us..."

Takashi said, "He doesn't have anyone?"

"Someone left him outside the hospital," said Dad. "They haven't found anyone who belongs to him."

Or he belongs to, thought Takashi. It was sad, he thought too as he looked at the picture of the kid. The boy looked like he didn't think anybody loved him.

"What's his name?" asked Takashi.

*

They called him Keith, and he slept in Takashi's room because Takashi was old enough to tell if something was wrong. He'd thought if Keith was shy he wouldn't want to look at anyone but all Keith seemed to do was stare at people.

Aimi hated it. She didn't like people staring at her. It reminded her of the birthmark on her neck. 

"He doesn't mean it bad," said Takashi. "He's curious."

"He just looks at it!" said Aimi. She pulled her turtleneck up higher and scowled.

Keith stared at his own reflection a lot, too. The mirror frightened him. Mom said it was probably over-stimulating, if he'd lived in an environment without sensory stuff. Keith would look in the mirror and touch his face and his eyes and his mouth.

Aside from the staring, Aimi liked Keith. Masaru hated him. Masaru had to share his toys. He had to share some of his clothes. Keith threw toys when he was angry, and he got angry whenever Masaru tried to take a toy back from him. Mom said this was because Keith probably didn't have anything before, but Masaru said it was 'cause Keith thought he was special and like everything belonged to him but it didn't.

Three times a week Mom took Keith to a therapy class, for his temper and his staring and all the other things nobody knew what to call. This was supposed to help. Takashi couldn't tell if it did. Keith just kept staring at people and touching his face and throwing Masaru's toys. 

It took time, Mom said. Healing takes time. He doesn't know who he is. He doesn't know where he is. We need to teach him that he's safe.

*

One night Takashi stirred and blinked awake into the dim glow of the nightlight. Someone was mumbling. It was Keith, holding his little hands up and moving his fingers through the light and looking at the shadows cast on the far wall.

Sleepily Takashi watched him do this. He didn't know the words, and Keith made no shapes with his fingers or hands, but it sounded like a story. He listened for a while and then he sat up.

Keith stopped talking. He looked warily over at Takashi, with his hands still upraised. Takashi smiled at him. Keith continued to stare.

The nightlight was placed in the wall between their beds. Takashi stooped beside it and made a shape with his hands before it. 

"Duck," he said, naming the shadow he'd made on the wall.

Keith tipped his head.

Takashi separated his hands then he made the shape again.

"Duck."

Keith looked at the shadow. He tipped his head the other way. Then, after long consideration, he tried to duplicate it. 

"Duck," said Keith. 

Takashi laughed, and Keith startled. He looked wide-eyed at Takashi, who covered his mouth and said, "Sorry," but smiled still.

Keith blinked. His lips peeled from his teeth, in fine increments. He smiled, as a skeleton might. Takashi beamed.

He made another shape. "Wolf."

"Wolf," said Keith, duplicating it.

"Dragon."

"Dragon."

Keith learned quickly, figuring out then mimicking with ease each placement of the hands. Takashi made a game of it; he tried to remember the trickiest animals he knew. At the end, he held up one hand in a two-fingered OK sign.

"Rabbit."

Keith quirked his head and laughed. He looked at Takashi and laughed again.

Takashi pointed at himself. "Takashi."

"Takashi." 

"Keith." He pointed.

Keith's attempt at a smile slipped away. He was back to his usual wide-eyed, flat-mouthed look.

"Takashi," said Takashi, pointing to himself, then pointing to Keith he said again, "Keith."

"Takashi," said Keith. He pointed to himself. "Lotor."

Takashi laughed. He didn't mean to. It was only that Lotor was such a goofy name. Keith's brow pinched. He looked bewildered.

"Okay," said Takashi, "Lotor."

*

And there was another night, when Keith screamed and would not stop until Takashi crept into his bed and held his arms pinned to his sides and said, inanely, "Duck. Wolf. Dragon. Goose," and Keith calmed and whatever strange shadows had elongated his face faded.

"Burger. Rabbit. Dad. Fox."

Keith pointed to Takashi's shadow and said, "Takashi there."

"Right!" said Takashi, pleased.

Keith pointed to his own shadow and he said, "Keith there."

"Yeah," said Takashi, and he turned his hold into a loose hug, so that Keith could wriggle up into a sitting position. "There's Keith."

Keith touched his own face absently and said again, "Keith," and then he sighed and clambered over Takashi to take Takashi's bed while Takashi slept in his. 

Keith was like that.

*

Mom was right, in the end. It took time. Keith and Masaru threw rocks at the street. Aimi began wearing lower collars, because, she said, Keith stared so much she didn't care anymore. At school they asked Takashi how many younger siblings he had and he said, "Three." They were all very proud of Keith for learning to spell his own name. Keith Shirogane. That was his name. 


End file.
